I'm so so so so so so so sorry! I know I'm a hypocrite, with all my reviews saying that 'you finally got the next chapter up!', and I'm really sorry! With Christmas and all... and my good friend just had a major crisis in his life... and everything is really screwed up. I got sick, mom said that I spent far to much time on the computer... I promise, promise, promise to write as quickly as I can. But I have bad news. This is going to be my last story for a while. I really want to try my hand at something else, but I'm not going to stop writing these stories. I already have more stories planned for this. So enjoy my ninth chapter!

Chapter Nine: The Sacrifice

Watson's POV:

I groaned and rolled over, my cheek pressed up against the cold concrete. My eyes snapped open and I looked around.

We were still in the warehouse. Holmes was gone, however. Kline was next to me, her ankle and wrist both out of place. The bone poked through on her wrist. I found the entire scene nauseating. Christine, on the other hand, was a good twenty feet a way, curled up underneath some crates. I walked over to her, to see if she had woken up yet.

She wasn't awake, and she didn't look happy. Her black shirt had turned red around the arm, and I could see some blood around it. I fought the urge to throw up and shook her gently.

Christine was alert almost instantly, propping herself up with her good arm. She bared her teeth in the moonlight that streamed from the window and looked up at me.

"Where is he?" she whispered. I didn't know why she whispered, and shook my head.

"Don't know?" I replied loudly. She raised a finger to her mouth, and rose unsteadily to her feet. I followed her back to where Kline was positioned. Christine nudged her with her foot to no avail. Sighing, she knelt down next to her.

"Kline? Hey Kline, Jason is here to see you," she muttered into the dead air. Kline's eyes snapped open instantly, and I couldn't help but laugh. I saw Christine crack a smile in the dark, and nudge Kline again.

"Works every time. Get up, we have work to do. They took him." Kline didn't need to be told who, and she clambered to her feet, only to fall down again. Her face showed the traces of pain, and I sat down next to her, concerned.

"What is wrong?" I said softly. Kline grasped at her ankle and bit her lip.

"I broke it in the fight. There is no way I'm getting out of here with this," she said, gesturing toward the offending ankle. I touched it gently, and hearing her gasp of pain, quickly withdrew my hand. I frowned and thought a moment.

"Christine, give me your shirt," I demanded. Christine seemed taken aback.

"Uh, I usually don't strip in front of people. Heck, I don't even strip," Christine whispered. I rubbed my eyes.

"Dummy. Part of it. Give me pieces. I need to make a brace. And," I thought aloud, "while you're at it, get me a piece of plank as well."

Christine frowned again, but made up her mind quickly. She tore the bottom parts of the shirt of in long strips and handed them to me. She used her right arm, her left arm hanging limply at her side. Kline smiled up at her.

"Nice mid-drift look. Really nice," Kline whispered happily. Christine glared at her and moved towards the old crates while I checked the pieces of cloth. She returned shortly, holding some dark pieces.

"These are the strongest, cleanest, and above all, driest pieces I could find," she whispered as she tossed them to me. I nodded quickly and placed them on two sides of Kline's ankle.

"Ok, this is going to hurt really bad. Christine, take her hand and let her squeeze it so she doesn't tense up to much. I'm going to put your bone back in place on the count of three, all right?" I asked. Kline nodded and gripped Christine's hand. I took a deep breath.

"All right... one..." I slammed her bone back into place. Kline let out a miniscule scream, immediately cut off by Christine's insistent whispers. I tied the planks together with the cloth and smiled at Kline.

"Why didn't you wait until three?" she whispered in a shaky voice. Christine wretched her hand away.

"Yeah? My hand might still be intact otherwise," she simpered. I smiled again, proud that my nursing had worked.

"If I had waited until three, you would have tensed," I answered simply. I turned to Christine.

"What's up with your arm?" I asked. She picked it up with her other hand and let it fall again.

"Got stabbed."

"Let's get to work."

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After many small screams later, I managed to bandage Christine's arm properly.

"Jeez, I knew you were a wuss, but come on," Kline teased. Christine pouted.

"Hey, you only had a broken bone. I was stabbed, give me a break," she replied angrily. She clapped her hands together and immediately winced. She grabbed Kline's hand and clapped her free hand together with hers.

"All right, we have to find him. Anyone awake to see where they took him?" she asked. I shook my head, and so did Christine. She groaned.

"Great. Well, let's do this the old fashioned way, shall we?" she asked. She reached a hand down her shirt. I gasped.

Christine pulled out a magnifying glass and grinned at my appalled look.

"Puh-leese. I'm not that bad. I don't have any pockets in my pants. Besides, my undergarments work just as well. Kline, you got the map and compass, just in case?" she asked. Kline smiled as I watched her hand.

"No, I don't keep my things in my bra. That is only Christine. I have pockets handy," she reassured me. I smiled timidly and watched as Christine stared at the ground. She picked up some soil all of a sudden and handed it to Kline.

"Black soil, fertile. That comes from the-" Kline cut her off.

"That comes from this area. We know that. Footprints?" she asked impatiently. Christine crawled on the ground a few feet, her nose practically pressed to the ground. Her frizz hair fell down her face, and she looked like some strange bloodhound. I suppressed a giggle.

"Um... that's us. Too blunt... high heels... small heel, blunt toe- that's her! Got her!" whispered Christine frantically. She peered at the ground, then frowned.

"Glasses. Where are my glasses?" she demanded. Kline frowned and reached into her pocket and pulled them out.

"Thought they were for reading only?" I asked. She didn't look at me as she put them in a precarious position at the end of her nose. Kline smiled at our friend.

"She won't answer you. She uses the glasses for extra magnifying purposes. It's only when the trail is pretty bad that she will have to use them," Kline whispered back at me. I nodded and frowned.

Christine continued to peer at the ground, and finally her head snapped up.

"Shoes. What kind of shoes was Sherlock wearing?" she snapped. I thought a moment.

"Dress ones. Why?" I asked. Christine turned her attention back to the ground, but she propped herself up on her heels.

"Here's where we came in. Here is the henchmen's footprints. But none of these are dress shoes. However, I'm sure that if we look up there," she said, pointing to the window, "we'll find his footprints with ease. And, knowing him, he was smart enough to leave some kind of trail. Even if he was unconscious, which he surely was," Christine thought aloud. I nodded, and we headed over to the window.

We couldn't get up there unless we climbed the crates. Kline was in no position to do such a thing, and so Christine and I obliged.

The crates were slippery underfoot, and I nearly plunged to the ground numerous times. Christine, on the other hand, moved carefully and quickly, and reached the window minutes before me. When I finally got there, she was already on the ground, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

"Smart boy. I can see why you like him," she mumbled. I leaned closer to her barely audible voice.

"No... no... yes-yes-YES!" Christine yelled. She jumped down from the window, and landed on all fours. She ran out the door, leaving me and Kline to scramble after her.

She stopped in front of the window from the outside, and was staring at the ground.

"Fools. Absolute fools! This is a trail for children," Christine laughed. Kline raised an eyebrow at her seemingly insane persona.

"Uh, Christine, is their something you would like to tell us?" Kline asked carefully. Christine grinned.

"I've not gone insane, not yet at any rate. Up on the window there was a large amount of soil. Far to much for anybody to have on their shoes accidentally. That rules out Lieutenant Williams and Sarah. They would want to go undetected. That also rules out Mr. Watson. Even a drunk cannot accumulate that much mud. However, a person who knew they were going to be captured, and wanted to be followed, would leave a trail that even a stupid person would see instantly, but a smart and insane criminal may not. Sherlock had rubbed his shoes into soil, was knocked unconscious, and was dragged out the window. The soil showed it. Now, they got out using a ladder, the marks are clear here. See? Once out, he was dead weight. Lieutenant and Sarah may not be delicate, but they are hardly the strongest women. They ended up dragging him. These two lines here prove it. They are a bit irregular, but we can tell it's him because the soil is in certain places," pronounced Christine. Kline nodded, seeing at once what I did not.

"But- what if it's a trap? What if they're purposely leading us off the trail? HOW CAN YOU BE SURE?" I asked urgently. Christine rolled her eyes and began walking, leaving Kline to explain.

"She knows. She saw something up on the window. You can trust her," Kline soothed. I cracked up.

"Remember when I still lived here? Christine was always left to explain stuff to me, not you explaining things to me!" I laughed. Kline began laughing too.

"Well, I usual see things, and she pieces it together. This time she had to do both. Trust me, on normal circumstances, she would be left to explain things to you. But this isn't normal," Kline grinned. I smiled and we followed Christine down what I prayed was the right trail.

Holmes's POV:

My hands were tied sloppily to a wooden pole behind me, and my shirt was gone. Lieutenant Williams stood before me, with a whip in her hand. She had already used it.

"Now then, isn't this fun?" she drawled. I bit my lip, refusing to say anything.

She had been at this for the past fifteen minutes, the torture. She had whipped me numerous times, so many times that I couldn't even feel my chest anymore. I knew I was bleeding, but I didn't care. I knew Kline and Christine would come through. They should be able to follow the mud I had left on my shoes. If not, all was lost.

"Mr. Holmes, isn't this fun?" Williams asked again. I blinked and continued to stare off into space. Sarah, who stood off in a corner, snarled angrily.

"Just kill him, Lynn. Ripping out his heart should be twice as fun," she spat. Lieutenant Williams laughed.

"Ah, but I believe he would like to hear our reasons for doing the murders Sarah. He knows he will die, and I think he should have the pleasure of knowing our motives," Williams laughed. She grabbed my face with her hand and forced me to look at her.

"Isn't that right, Mr. Holmes?" she whispered. I stared at her and she let go.

"Very well, if you refuse to answer.... Sarah, the knife please." Sarah grinned and pulled out a small knife from her pocket. Williams held out her hand for it, and then fingered it.

"Such a pretty instrument, isn't it? Very unoriginal, I believe, but nonetheless, it works very well. If you refuse to answer me, I may have to use it," she warned. I fixed my gaze upon the broken window across from me. Williams growled heatedly.

"Very well. I hope you are tolerant of pain," she laughed. She flipped the dagger into the palm of her hand, and drew the blade across my chest. I closed my eyes to the immeasurable pain, and locked my jaw down, so I didn't not utter a sound. Lieutenant Williams laughed and did it again. And again.

"Ready to listen, Mr. Holmes?" she asked. I stared at the knife. She smiled again.

"As you wish. Unfortunately, this is not all fun. All my other victims screamed. I'll tell you, but later you will scream.

"It began with my husband, of course. He was a drunk, as you already know. We had wed when we were very young, and very much in love. It was a glorious time. But after a while he grew bored with me, and turned to other women. It irritated me a great deal. One night I confronted him. He was bloody drunk, and he beat me many, many times. It went on like that for a year. But one night I could no longer stand it.

"He had come home with a young woman, and told me I could leave, that I was no longer of any use to him. I snapped. I slapped the woman and told her to leave. She did, of course. I'm not called Lieutenant Williams for nothing, after all. I faced my husband with anger, and when he began the beating, I grew very angry. We were in the kitchen, and he had just slammed me up against the drawer that held the knives in it. I pulled on out and stabbed him in the heart. He died instantly.

"But that was far from the end. The murder looked poorly done, and poorly planned. As everyone knows, I must have order and neatness. So I decided that I would make an analogy. I cut out his heart, ripped it out is more like it. I decided to do that because it represented how he had ripped my heart out with his beatings.

"However, one drunk gone from the world is hardly an accomplishment. Sarah felt the same way, of course. We met when I was in her bookstore. She told me that her last boyfriend had been a drunk, and so we went off to kill him. And we did, ripping out his heart as I did with my husband.

"It went on like that for some time. And tonight we thought we found the perfect victim. You see, we knew who you really were when you confronted me in my home. And to murder one of the investigators fathers... it was perfect. But you found us, unfortunately. You interrupted us. And now our last victim won't be a drunk. So sad." Williams finished and continued to play with knife. I kept my calm and continued to stare at her. Sarah approached me.

"Aren't you scared?" she asked. I wanted to scream that I was (who wouldn't be), but I couldn't. That would play into their hands. I merely directed my gaze at her, and raised an eyebrow. This infuriated her.

"Lynn, he ain't scared! The wretch ain't scared!" she yelled. I smiled a bit. Sarah whirled around and slapped me.

"I'll teach you! Lynn, hand me the club," she snapped. Williams sighed and tossed her the long piece of wood.

"Not too hard, Sarah. We don't want to kill him straight away," she teased. Sarah smiled and raised the club even with my ribs. And then she swung it.

My ribs cracked straight, and I suppressed a scream. She did it again, and once again my ribs snapped evenly. This time I couldn't help it. I let loose with a long scream. Sarah laughed and hit my arm with the club, splintering the bone. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of another scream, however, and clamped my jaw shut. Sarah continued to laugh, a hysterical sound. I closed my eyes and resigned myself to die.

"Nice place you got here, could use some flowers, but hey, can't have everything," came a sarcastic voice from a few feet away. I opened my eyes, and saw Kline and Watson standing there. I smiled.

"It's about time the cavalry got here," I shouted over to them. Kline grinned happily.

"We had some difficulties. Sorry," she shouted. I smiled at her. Then a gun being loaded made a small sound in the dank air. I turned my head and saw both Lieutenant Williams and Sarah pointing guns at my head. I stifled a small gasp of surprise.

"One more step, and your friend dies," snarled Williams. Sarah nodded. Kline's smile disappeared.

"Really? Don't think so, lady. Not on our watch," she snapped. Williams and Sarah smiled at her cruelly and turned their watchful eyes back towards me.

"Are you ready to die?" they asked simultaneously. I looked over their shoulders and watched as Kline and Watson both snuck towards me.

"No," I told them. They had made the fatal error of not tying my legs down, and I kicked them in the stomachs. They fell to the ground, and their guns went off. I struggled against my bonds, but they held tight. I watched as Kline kicked Sarah in the head, and Watson tripped Williams. Unfortunately for me, she shoved Watson aside and grabbed her gun and aimed it towards me again. She pulled back the hammer, and above me I heard some scream.

"Oh... shoot," it said. I closed my eyes against the impact of the bullet, and the gun went off. A split second before, I heard the crates above me collapse. I didn't feel the bullet, which surprised me. I opened my eyes in time to see Watson crumble to the ground, her stomach bleeding severely. I yelled at her as loud as I could.

"WATSON!!" There was no response. I looked up from her body, and saw what was happening.

Kline had tackled Sarah, who had also aimed her gun back at me, and was busy with her. I also saw Christine wrestling with Williams. The evidence showed that she had been up on the crates, and they had fallen and crashed into Williams before the gun went off. That was the only reason Watson was alive. I redirected my gaze towards her.

She had jumped in front of the gun, that much was clear. She sacrificed herself for me. My head grew foggy, my vision blurred, and I slipped into unconsciousness.

Kline's POV:

I had watched as Christine came crashing down on top of Williams, and I had tackled Sarah. We were locked in a fierce battle at the moment, I with Sarah, and Christine with Williams.

Sarah proved to be a good fighter right off the bat. She hit me in the face, and I felt my jaw snap. I promptly tackled her, and her head connected with the piles of broken wood. She stood up and smiled at me.

"Are you prepared to die?" she asked. I rolled my eyes.

"You really need some new catch phrases. You said that to Sherlock, and he isn't dead, now is he?" I asked, my jaw working painfully. Her eyes snapped open and she whirled around to face Sherlock.

"He isn't dead! He is supposed to be dead!" she whispered angrily. I took the opportunity to slam her back down on the ground. She gained the upper hand quickly enough, and slammed by head down on the ground three times. I winced in pain, and then slammed my foot into her gut. She screamed in surprise, and I hit her in the face. She lapsed into nothingness.

Christine's POV:

I winced as I clambered off of Williams, for when I fell on her I had broken my wrist. Williams smiled up at me.

"Child, are you in pain. Let me relieve it for you!" she screamed, jumping up on the word relieve. She pulled out a knife from her waist band and slashed at me. I pulled my head out of the way, but her blade caught on my cheek. It scraped down it, and I clapped my good hand to my face. I removed it a second later, and saw the blood there. I glared at her and slammed my entire body into her, taking her down once more. I hit her a couple of times, and felt her hands wrap themselves around my throat. I yanked my neck from her hands and jumped up. She rose from the ground slowly, obviously tired. She grabbed a piece of the crate that had cracked when I fell, and slammed it across my ribs. I felt at least two of them crack and was ready to attack her again, when she fell to the ground. Kline stood behind her, holding a metal beam.

"Looked as though you needed some help," she coughed. I smiled at her and looked over at Sherlock and Jenny.

"We definitely need medical help," I whispered, and then fell to the ground. I heard Kline do the same thing, and then I slipped into a void.